


Saltwater, diluting the taste

by Nalyra



Series: Sparks of blackish red [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: Small vignette that didn't make it into the "After the Fall Zine", which wasn't surprising seeing all the others^^.Just where my head wanted to go.





	Saltwater, diluting the taste

The smell of copper is still heavy in the air, mixing with the salt of the ocean as Will shifts his weight. There is something that could have been a sigh as Hannibal shifts beneath his cheek, just enough to catch the momentum. Accepting. Will blinks and tightens his arm, feels the deep inhale, the tightening of Hannibal’s arms around him. Pulling him in so tightly still, even though he must know that the only way out is down now. Will’s lips twitch in a brittle smile, the feeling of home, of safety beckoning deep in his guts. 

The fingers pulling his shirt tighten and Will pushes his forehead forward, feels the collarbone pressing against the bridge of his nose, finding the serenity to pull through. A shift and then vertigo takes them and it is a physical blow as Hannibal lets go of Will’s shirt, the fingers that had pulled so tightly just not there anymore. Cold air pulls at the spot that had been feeling scorching hot just before, making Will feel bereft and shaking within a split second. 

Wind pulls at his hair and skin, the body beneath his cheek suddenly feeling far away, the perceived unity of just moments before replaced by debilitating dread. It had been one thing to risk it all for a shot at this life with him, to risk it all to end this life here with him, or, even, to risk it all and throw their lives into the hands of fate; all of it would have been good, as long as they would go together. There is the thunder of heartbeat just beneath his ear, and the wind pulls the tears from Will’s eyes. 

And then, just as suddenly as the feeling of dread arrived it evaporates as a hand threads into his hair, the shift in posture resulting in a twisted tumble, Will slowly shifting to be the one falling first, using the motion to look up, their gazes instantly locking. 

There is wonder and sadness and pride and hope in Hannibal’s gaze, a painful mixture of intense emotions, transported clearly through the fingertips, gently stroking Will’s scalp.  
And then those fingers tighten and the hand in the low of Will’s back tightens and Will undulates, their lips finding each others on instinct, iridescent recognition and instant arousal traveling along Will’s nerves, the moment their tongues touch taking his senses hostage, deafening the the roaring of the waves. Will ignores the pain in his cheek and deepens the kiss, his own hands pulling Hannibal ever closer, droplets of waves branding up the coast wetting his back. 

And just as Will hits the water, his body exploding in instant pain, the feeling of home, of safety is back, making him smile into the kiss, saltwater diluting their taste, making him hold on tighter, refusing to let go. 

 

They will find their destiny.  
Soon.

After the fall.


End file.
